How about another edition of "what you've missed"?

"Stop!"

My son is incredibly defiant. I was so hoping for a child who would instantly "stop" doing whatever unpleasant/dangerous/awful/annoying thing he was doing the moment he heard me tell him not to do it. However, upon hearing the word "no" or "stop," Silas looks at me, smiles, and returns to whatever it is he is doing. I repeat "no" or "stop" five more times and he smiles at me each time and goes about his business. Eventually, I have to walk over to him and, say, remove his tiny hand from the dog bowl and remove his entire being from the kitchen and put up the baby gate to keep him from returning to the dog bowl.

"Home sweet home"

I'm not sure if you have ever had the pleasure of sharing a one bedroom apartment with a toddler. In case you have not been so lucky, I will inform you that a one year old owns too much crap not to have his own bedroom. My living room much resembles a Toys R Us. There are mega blocks and board books hiding under every available surface, nook and cranny, people. And so the search for a bigger place has begun.

"Jack-o'-m-g-this is hard"

Saturday was pumpkin carving day. Stencils were purchased, newspaper was placed on the coffee table, and the tops were cut out of each of the two pumpkins.

This is where I should explain that my recollection of pumpkin carving is from childhood. So, all I remembered was it being awesome...because I was eight...and someone else was doing all the hard stuff. Pumpkin carving resulted in me, my couch, my floor and my son getting covered in pumpkin guts and my hand cramping up a thousand times while I whined, "why is this so hard?!"

Sunday I issued an apology to my mother. Why? Two weeks prior to pumpkin carving Saturday, my reply to my mother's declaration of her pumpkin carving days being over was, "suck it up, you have a grandson now!" I'm not sure how she hung in there for as many years as she did.

Smiley Pumpkin

Scary Pumpkin

Whew, that was close

Despite the fact that I am, um, financially challenged, my son had me seriously considering quitting my job yesterday.

Normally when I arrive to pick him up in the afternoons, he lights up and shows me all six of his teeth, and wraps his arms around my calves.

However, yesterday, halfway into the twenty foot walk from the door to him, he was still looking at me like I was a stranger. When I got to him and picked him up, he started screaming like he had no idea who I was and reached for the baby sitter. (Sadly, I drew a correlation between his spaz out and the fact that I fixed my hair and wore make up to work...do your own math).

Needless to say, I sat on the front steps and cried after he went to bed last night.

This morning, I made sure to say things like, "mommy is wearing a blue shirt today. Please remember mommy" when I dropped him off and vowed to quit my job and move in with a relative if he staged a repeat performance.

Lucky for us, he did as he was told and remembered mommy this afternoon. So, I shall be making another appearance at the office in the morning.

It was a close call.

Every Day I'm Hustlin'

Let me just put this out there as plainly as I can: I'm broke. Not, I-can't-afford-to-eat-out-but-all-my-bills-are-paid broke, but choosing-between-the-light-bill-and-eating-at-all broke. So far, I've managed to toe the line between poor and homeless just well enough to keep my lights on and feed Silas and myself. Yay me (okay, and yay my mom and one very kind friend because they totally have something to do with it, but I do get up and go to work every day, so yay me too).

However, yesterday, when I was going over all my bills (tomorrow is payday and I had to devise a strategy for how to trick the bank into paying for everything I need), it occurred to me that I'm dangerously close of falling off this tight rope, and there is not a net below to catch me. (Of course I don't have a savings account, and it would already be empty if I did. And of course I cried, that's what I do).

All "whoa is me" this morning, I unburdened myself on a co-worker. He immediately and without hesitation suggested I work my hustle. He is not the first male friend I've had suggest this solution. Why is it that men assume that everyone on earth has a hustle?

My plan prior to talking to aforementioned co-worker was to get a second job, but a hustle sounds like something I could do without having to spend even more time away from my son. So, I'd like to get a hustle instead. My only hustle-able skill (unless you know something I don't - legal and not degrading - then clue me in) is writing. So, I think I'm going to make an ad, set up a pay pal account and see if I can hustle up the light bill.

First hustle:
(If you - or your momma/sister/cousin/bff - need something written and want to give me a few bucks to take a crack at it for you, send me an email: chelle6802@yahoo.com.)

My Costume Debacle

Friends of mine are planning a Halloween costume party. As much as I'd like to go to one of the jillion costume places and pick something up, I do not have the gall to be a slutty anything (please see above for what costume manufacturers managed to do to Sponge Bob, Minnie Mouse and Strawberry Shortcake).

Therefore, I'm having to summon my creativity (what little I have) to make my own costume for this party.

Silas is going to be Peter Pan (maybe now he will never grow up). So, in running with that theme, I was going to be Tinkerbell. That is until I found out my friend's daughter, who is two, is going to be Tinkerbell. Frankly, I don't need the competition.

So, it was back to the drawing board...where I drew up a pretty fantastic idea. It requires a partner and very likely a glue gun. That is all I will tell you.

I hope the suspense is killing you. You only have to wait 33 more days to see a picture. Wish me luck in making it happen.

Happy (Belated) Birthday, Mr. Silas

Sweet baby (er, toddler) Silas turned one last Saturday. There was cake and balloons and presents and people who don't necessarily like one another all shoved into one (three-if you count the garage) room(s).

Frankly, I was surprised that this party went off without a hitch because things like that never happen in my life. There was not one, tiny detail that I could nitpick into something to complain over. (The helium tank I bought at Wal-Mart was completely empty, but my aunt had one left over from my baby shower, so still nothing).

Everyone played nice and got along, the cake was amazing, Silas and all his little buddies had a good time. It was one of the most perfect days I've had in a long time.

The drive over to my aunt's house was tearful because I spent it remembering where I was at that exact time a year before. Driving to the hospital, getting prepped for surgery, being taken to the OR, hearing my son for the first time, seeing my son for the first time.

Never could I have imagined the overwhelming joy and gratitude that little boy would bring to me. When I look back over the last year, all the bad things that have happened settle into the shadows of all the bright, shining, amazing moments Silas has created in my world.

Happy (belated) Birthday to the most perfect child to have ever graced me with his presence!

Toddler-ville

Imagine my surprise when I opened my email on Silas' birthday and discovered I am officially the mother of a toddler. When I was pregnant, I signed up for 183 email lists from mommy-to-be websites, and they just kept on updating me on Si's progress after his arrival.

Anyway, apparently, when baby starts walking and/or turns one, he is *officially* a toddler. Had no clue.

However, the word toddler seems to mesh really well with Si's new independent, "me, me, me" approach to life. It now makes sense that he refuses to be "fed" (he must do it himself so that he can maximize the mess) and that he now throws full-on tantrums when he doesn't have exactly what it is he wants in his tiny, sticky hands at any given moment (throwing the head back, stomping, wailing at the top of his lungs....no matter where we are) and that he beats me senseless with books because he wants me to read them but has not quite mastered the words "read" or "please" (thought he gave me a black eye one night) ( he does have a pretty decent vocab for a one-year-old, including "money, money, money!").

This means I'm officially putting my hat in the ring for the mayor of Toddler-ville. Can't wait for all the madness to ensue!

What you've missed in my absence

The amount of time that lapsed since my last blog made me start putting it off out of embarrassment. Decided to just plunge back in. So, here's what you've missed:

• One of my many bosses turned me into his/her bitch.
• Silas learned to walk.
• I'm still fat and still lazy.
• Traffic in Dallas is still a nightmare.
• I made a trip to Little Rock and had a terrible time.
• Silas turned one, and he had an awesome party - this may actually get a post of its own.
• I got deathly ill and rallied admirably.

You're all caught up! Things at work have slowed, and I'll do my best to get back to blogging faithfully...if anyone is still checking in...